The Adventure of William Shakespeare
by Hamish W. Holmes
Summary: Sherlock and John are confronted to Victor Trevor. Follow your spirit, and upon this charge Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George'
Hello everyone! As we celebrated the 400th anniversary of Shakespeare's death, I have been writing this little tribute to him. I am French so I hope this will be good enough to all of you.

I must thank Elizabeth Mary Holmes, who gently accepted to correct my mistakes!

 **ENJOY!**

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That adventure takes place in Cambridge, in a lecture hall where lessons are taught to clever students looking for a life of wealth. Stress is palpable between those gigantic walls. Something unusual happened; none of the students were ready to live this kind of events. Let's talk about murder here, because that was the reason why Sherlock and John were invited to this place of great fame. A terrible act had been perpetrated and the detective knows Cambridge almost by heart even if he lived tough times there. Those buildings of amazing architecture store in them the past of several men but the memories Sherlock has, should have remained in the halls.

This story brought the great detective where it all began, but he is no longer alone as John is by his side. The two men are now heading to the crime scene. Students are around the dead body of a young and beautiful girl. There is no sign of struggle, no sign of aggression toward herself except a mark around her neck and a little detail that remains in Sherlock's mind: the near end of a love bite on her neck. Darkness surrounds them as the students' whispers reach their ears. Suddenly, a voice comes over all those whispers, a male voice that Sherlock would recognize amid a hundred.

"What a piece of work is man! How noble in reason! How infinite in faculty! In form and moving how express and admirable! In action how like an angel! In apprehension how like a God! The beauty of the world, the paragon animals!"

"Victor, there you are. I am surprised you didn't show yourself sooner," said Sherlock.

"Sorry, my dear fellow, I was lecturing when you arrived. I heard of the Ophelia, she was loved by all."

" Apparently she wasn't," spontaneously said John.

"Dr. Watson! I barely saw you. I am sure you will make a good story of this adventure."

" An honest tale speeds best, being plainly told" he replied jealously.

"Why are you here, Victor?" asked Sherlock.

"Well, I wanted to assist. It's been years since you left; Cambridge changed. You may find yourself a bit lost in those corridors."

"I accept your help. It is true that our old playground has changed."

"Wonderful! Will you stay tonight? We still have empty rooms."

"It would be delightful indeed, thank you Victor."

John looked at Sherlock quizzically. The soldier already heard Sherlock talking about that Victor Trevor but he neglected the impact this man had on his friend. A few words may suffice to describe the relation they had and what made Sherlock Holmes the man he is today. The detective might be a brilliant observer but he is blind when he thinks his blogger cannot see him.

Sherlock wandered in those walls, trying to get the spirit of it, feeling the coldness of the stone under his fingers. To be a student again. Who could possibly kill a young lady of good family? And for what motive? Jealousy? She was not amongst the best and the brightest. A piece of the puzzle was still missing. While Sherlock was going in his mind palace, John tried to deduce more about the body but in his opinion it was clearly a murder. There was a strangulation mark around her neck! She laid in the middle of a lecture hall. It was a murder but for some reasons Sherlock couldn't admit it. John knew at this moment that his friend has some different theories.

Later that day, when the boys found themselves in their small room, they shared their observations. Sherlock concluded that there was more to it than a murder. Women were acting strangely. He has made some researches and discovered that Ophelia was not one of many friends, two or three at most. During his walk, he noticed that many young women were mourning her death.

"When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions."

"So,you think there's more behind Ophelia's death?"

" Absolutely John. She had no apparent reason to get killed, if she was."

" Are you saying she killed herself?"

"Maybe. Though this be madness, yet there is method in it."

"But Sherlock, why would she kill herself and this mark around her neck?"

"There are daggers in men's smiles, John. Someone must have forced her, in every sort of ways. Something conducted her to take her own life."

That was a strange case indeed: if she decided to take her own life, it was not of her own volition. The night had been short for the two tenants of Baker Street. When John woke up the following day, he was alone in the room. Sherlock left during while he was still sound asleep. On a daily basis, the famous detective was already quite odd , but in Cambridge John saw a completely different man. As he went out to find coffee to start the day, he heard close to where he was the voice of his friend; he was talking with that Victor Trevor again.

" For you and I are past our dancing days," Sherlock.

"It was a wonderful night, Victor. Thank you, it's good to see you again. I missed you."

"Oh Sherlock, you didn't change from the old days where you were begging me..."

"Yes, master, neither do you."

John couldn't believe what he heard. This was a complete different Sherlock. How on earth could Sherlock be submitted to that man? As he rested his shocked body against the wall, the source of his attention appeared in front of him.

" Did you enjoy your night" asked the soldier.

"I have not slept one wink!"

"What's done is done, I presume" said John jealously.

"The robbed that smiles steals something from the thief, John. Look, if you think I had sex with the man that made me this way that tortured me in every way, just to get you jealous, you are absolutely wrong. Nothing will come from nothing."

"There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so."

"You begin to understand. Victor Trevor has many victims to his account. Am I the first? Yes. There was a time when I was weak and he made then sure to take great advantage of my weakness to make me do everything he wanted. Did he abuse me? Yes. I have nothing more than disgust and hatred for this man now. John, you have to believe me when I tell you that there is no one else but you. This is my past and it turned me into someone heartless but you came into my life and..."

"Men of few words are the best men, Sherlock Holmes, you can be a complete dickhead when you don't give me answers but I know that when you come to talk that your words are meaningful. Enough talking, more actions. We have a criminal to apprehend. I don't know how, but we will and he will pay for what he has done to you."

Sherlock and John did not expect what was going to happen. They underestimated their enemy. They came to his office with the belief of arresting him. As they knocked and entered, they both had a bad feeling. He was standing there behind his desk, knuckles on it, staring at the two gentlemen. He was clearly wanting to feel them intimidated by his position , which he managed regarding the younger one.

"Does this place remind you of something, Sherlock?

"The first time we met; that was Mr. Figgins' office."

"Yes. And what happened here? I bet you told nothing to your little pet. Are you practicing my methods on him?"

"You have no rights!" ejaculated Sherlock.

"Of course I have all the rights. On your knees, Sherlock!"

"Sherlock, don't..."

"John, he can destroy all the things I've been building through the years since I met you."

"On your knees. You don't want John to know, don't you?"

"No. He shouldn't know," said he as he knelt.

"But I will tell you. Well John, your... companion? I made him a slave of mine."

"Shut up!"

"No, no, no dear. Pressure point, I think you've met my step brother Charles Augustus Magnussen! Sherlock has many of them and yes, I sexually abused him many many times. He has soft lips, don't you agree John?"

" Please John! Don't listen! Don't answer!"

"I made him my thing. He was so tiny, so puny. He has a tiny ass too, you can thank me for..."

"ENOUGH!" shouted John. "You killed Ophelia. You abused her and others in this University. She killed herself because of you! She wanted to end all of this and be a symbol! She took her own life because she knew how narcissistic you are. You called us anonymously so you could win over Sherlock again!"

"John..."

"Shut up Sherlock! Well, guess what, Sherlock is the strongest man I have ever seen. The greatest man whom I have ever known and no matter what you will tell me, he'll stay the same to me!"

"Oh, here's the funny part. This is where he killed his brother too."

"But..."

"The third one. His big brother Mycroft managed to keep it secret. So now John, how will you prove that I'm responsible of those abuses without telling the police that their dear consulting detective is actually a murderer?"

"I'm doing it," he said, smiling."Coward!"

"So you will put Sherlock in jail."

"There is one thing you never understood, Victor," calmly said Sherlock while standing up. "We are from the same world together and you created the beast that lives inside you. Cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste of death but once. Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, it seems to me most strange that men should fear; seeing that death, a necessary end, will come when it will come. Fortunately for you, death penalty is now over but remember that in another time, you could have been killed for it. And I will tell you what I told your stepbrother, I might be on the side of the angels but don't think for one second that I am one of them. I used to be a coward and I still am in some ways. I faked my own death but if I'm not mistaken, the death of Arthur Tumblington was also your fault."

"Sherlock, how can you prove all of this?"

"Ophelia's room, in a book there was a letter in which she explains it all. You underestimated her, she was not weak like I was, and she managed to write everything you've done to her. John has a recorder in his pocket and the 'love bite' you did to me last night, same mark than on Ophelia's neck. The strangulation mark? I know how much you love attaching us. And Scotland Yard is currently taking the statements of every student you abused here."

Victor Trevor suddenly became pale. Sherlock had difficulties in finding his way to John. What has been told exhausted him in a way he never experienced before. John gave Lestrade the recorder, Greg and Mycroft had a deal on this case ; the mention of the third Holmes' brother should be deleted.

The two men were heading back to their home. The cab was very quiet and none of them dared to look at each other. It was odd and somewhat tense between them. No world would be powerful enough for them. Nothing could heal Sherlock's heart and mind. There has always been more than friendship between those two, but love is blind and lovers cannot see.


End file.
